The Answer
by jakela
Summary: This one shot originally started out as an AU drabble, in honor of #JossCarterIsEternal, but it wouldn't leave me alone, so I added two more sections. It takes place during S2, sometime after the events of Dead Reckoning.


A/N: This story had originally started out as an AU drabble, in honor of #JossCarterIsEternal, but it wouldn't leave me alone, so I added two more sections. This story takes place in S2, sometime after the events of Dead Reckoning.

The meeting three days ago had been short, sweet and savagely satisfying. Compiled with the help of Finch, Elias and Scarface, Reese had presented Beecher with irrefutable evidence of not only his involvement in HR, but also proof of other illegal activities during his time on the force. Beecher had quietly accepted a senior position in a highly regarded private security firm and would be out of the country for at least the next two years, virtually unreachable, or so he had sadly explained to Joss during a farewell drink.

"Too bad the Narc was smarter than he looked," Scarface noted as he poured a celebratory bottle of wine for his co-conspirators in the warden's private office at Rikers that evening. "I was hopin' a little 'persuasion' might be in order. Make sure that he won't try to contact our girl again."

"_Our_…girl?" Reese glanced sharply at the Mob enforcer, then he leaned back in his chair, his slow, deadly smile causing Finch to inhale slowly in turn as the two Alpha males stared at each other.

Elias' eyes twinkled as he watched the silent exchange, then he raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Anthony simply admires the Detective's tenaciousness, bravery and loyalty – we all do, John. Her exploits during your time here have become the stuff of legend, in a variety of circles across the city. I can't think of any other person who could bring such disparate characters together to ensure that the Bureau's offer isn't derailed by a brief and," his head tilted towards the monitor where they had viewed Joss giving Beecher a gentle hug and kiss goodbye, "apparently innocent association with one of NY's Not-So-Finest."

Finch adjusted his glasses. "It is rather odd, but perhaps that very fact validates our objective. Instead of the 'ends justifying the means', we have 'the ends justifying the men.' "

Elias chuckled. "Delightful! We should have t-shirts printed!" He traced his index finger across the base of his glass. "The color of this wine is remarkable… so deep, so dark, so red...yet it glows…it almost sparkles despite our rather gritty surroundings here. It actually," his eyes flickered towards Reese, "seems to be enhanced by it, complementing, even needing the other to showcase its full potential."

The mobster raised his glass. "To Jocelyn Carter – a formidable opponent and…" he nodded to Reese and Finch, "an even more formidable friend."

Finch raised his glass, and after a long pause, Reese and Scarface nodded to each other and raised their glasses as well.

XXX

"What are you going to do with the next one?"

Reese raised an eyebrow at Cal Beecher's question. "What do you mean, Cal?" he drawled softly, casually flexing his hands as he leaned against the wrought iron fence in front of the former NYPD Narcotics detective's apartment building.

Beecher tossed the last suitcase into his classic Porsche. "There's going to be another one. Not right away, but another guy's gonna come around. Someone you won't be able to get rid of. Someone," he closed the trunk with a resounding snap, "she might actually care for. What are you going to do then?"

As the former detective stepped around the car, Bear, who seemed as eager as everyone else to see Beecher leave town, growled softly and rose up on his haunches, his body tense, ready to spring. Reese murmured a command and the Malinois sank back down, but his head still jutted forward, straining against his leash as he watched the other man approach them.

Reese shrugged, standing up straight and the two men faced each other. "Be happy for her. She deserves a good man." His long lashes fluttered ever so slightly at hearing himself use the same words that Joss had used to describe him to Donnelly weeks ago.

Beecher smiled and Reese cursed himself at the realization that the other man had caught that barely noticeable tell. "And neither one of us fit the bill, right?"

Not after everything I did to her, Reese thought. Not after Rikers. "No. Neither one of us does."

"Yeah..." Beecher sighed, looked off into the distance. ""You know, I noticed Jo- Carter years ago. Couldn't help it – she's smart, beautiful, funny…and those eyes, _damn_, those big eyes would look at you like she saw something nobody else could see. But she was…closed off, like something in a museum. You'd look at it, admire it, walk forward and stretch your hand out to touch it – and then you had to step back, 'cause you realized you hit glass."

Beecher smiled softly. "But there was something one morning, something different about her…I asked her out to dinner. And she said yes…I thought," he shrugged, "maybe it was because she was settled on the Task Force, or because her kid was getting older," shaking his head slightly, he chuckled, "I even thought it might be me, but…" his eyes flickered towards Reese, "now, I think it might be something else."

His eyes met Reese's as he pulled his car keys from his pocket. "Take care of her. Even if the next one is a good guy."

Reese nodded. "I always will."

"Yeah. I know." Beecher turned, got in his car and drove away.

XXX

"Joss?"

"Up here, John!"

Reese wended his way through piles of neatly stacked, color coded boxes and made his way upstairs to Joss' bedroom.

He paused in the doorway. She was poised like a ballerina, standing on one leg, her other leg extended in the air as she reached up and pinned something to a gigantic corkboard leaning against her closet door. Every curve of her body was highlighted, from her graceful arms to her full breasts, her nipped in waist to her sumptuous, yet firm ass, her sleek calves to her small arched foot.

In that one movement, Reese saw all the ways that she balanced her life – mother, cop, daughter – and all the ways she balanced _him_ – as a partner and a friend, and as Reese knew, as something much more than that.

He'd encouraged it – hell, had pushed her to leave, had formed an unholy alliance with Finch, a Mafia kingpin and his henchman to facilitate it, and then had blackmailed and banished another man to the other side of the earth to ensure it, but as he stood there watching her, Reese was struck with a sense of loss so powerful he had to grip the doorjamb to steady himself.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the room, smirk firmly in place. "Remind me to call you if I ever need to stage a coup. The planning for D-Day wasn't as extensive as this, Carter."

There were spreadsheets and photos and fabric swatches and checklists, floor plans and packing lists and invoices neatly tacked to the corkboard, each document dated and versioned in her neat handwriting, detailing Taylor's move to his father's, her move to DC and the setting up of a small studio apartment here for her visits back home.

She gave him that look. "You try making three moves all at once, and let's see how _you_ do, John."

"No thanks. I'll stick to dodging bullets." He held up a bag. "Why don't we sit down? I brought coffee and your favorite – double nut brownies from Death by Chocolate."

Joss sighed. "Bribery, John? I should have known that this wasn't just a social call." She led him to the little sitting area in the back of her bedroom. Like the rest of her place, the walls were stripped bare, and everything was packed away, except for a small loveseat.

They sat there for a while, drinking coffee and nibbling on the brownies and then Reese pulled out a tablet from his backpack.

"Welcome to your new home, Agent Carter."

Joss sat there, frozen, as his soft voice led her on a video tour of a beautiful townhouse.

Reese walked through every room, showing her the hardwood floors, the fireplaces, the cozy reading nook underneath a southern facing window.

He ran his hand over the carved wooden banisters, traced the pattern in a stained glass window, opened the cupboards in the walk-in pantry.

He measured space for her bicycle in the garage, adjusted a loose brick in the small patio, pointed out a birdhouse in the next door neighbor's tree.

He walked through the neighborhood, noting the transit stops, the park and the community garden, the farmer's market and the little restaurant that served breakfast all day.

Finally, he made his way up the narrow spiral staircase in the master bedroom to a secluded rooftop deck. The sun had set and the capitol's monuments gleamed softly in the distance. His soft voice was even softer still. "It's a real neighborhood, Joss. The people just don't sleep here, they live here. I think – I know, you'll be happy here."

As the video came to a close, Reese reached into his backpack and pulled out a cardboard cylinder. Inside were detailed drawings, with his cramped scrawl noting different aspects of each space. "My handwriting's not as good as yours, so you may have to ask me to decipher a few things," he shrugged sheepishly.

Joss hadn't moved, hadn't even blinked or breathed it seemed, and it felt like an hour had gone by before she finally whispered, "_When_ – When did you go to DC?"

"Last week. I'd seen videos, but I wanted to see the place for myself, and Finch has a private jet, so…" his voice trailed off as Joss shook her head slowly.

"John, I already have a place."

"This is much closer. You won't have to fight traffic and there a bunch of small businesses nearby that you can walk or bike to for your errands. It's diverse, active, open. You'll make friends there."

"I can't even begin to afford this. I'm already stretched with the studio apartment here."

"I'm paying for it, Joss. This place won't cost you a cent."

"The Bureau –"

"You have a law school buddy who took a job on the West Coast. He doesn't want to sell his home, but he doesn't want to rent it out to strangers either, so he's more than happy to let his former classmate have it at a steeply reduced rate."

Her big eyes stared at him. "You have it all figured out, all the answers. I guess there's nothing left for me to say."

Reese tilted his head at her. "You could say yes." His smirk faded as she shifted away from him.

"You _can't _just – you should have talked to me first." She stood up. "I can't –I can't accept this, John. It's – too much. I'm sorry."

As she turned her back to walk away, Reese said, "Joss, please. _Please_ - let me do this for you."

He held his breath as she slowly turned back to face him. "Why, John?"

"I've already told you why, Joss."

"No. You've said a bunch of stuff, a bunch of 'reasons', but you haven't told me _why_, John." Her voice cracked and tears sprang into her eyes. "You didn't speak to me for weeks, then you show up and act as though nothing happened, you practically gift wrapped and shipped me to Quantico, you were pushing it so hard, you got rid of Cal –" she clapped her hand over her mouth, closing her eyes.

"You…_knew_?"

Joss turned her head away from him, opening her eyes and looking at the curtained windows. "I'm a detective, John."

For once, there was no humor, or exasperation or even anger in those words, just a quiet assertion from someone who had seen and knew too much, especially about him.

She sighed. "It was all too sudden, too neat and it happened right before the Bureau conducted their in depth background checks on me. All they would have found were a few casual dates with a man who," she turned her head back to face him, and Reese saw a flash of guilt in her eyes, "I haven't thought about from the moment he left."

Joss stepped closer to him. "So why, John?" She came even closer, her legs barely touching his. "Why?"

Elias' toast echoed in his mind as Reese realized that he had forgotten what a formidable opponent Joss could be.

Leaning forward, her hand reached out to gently cup his cheek, "_Why_, John?"

He marveled at how she could break him with just one touch.

Reese closed his eyes, trying to preserve whatever dignity he had left. "You know why, Joss," his voice so strained and hoarse, that he wasn't sure that he had even spoken. "You know why."

Joss slowly drew her hand away."I do."

Reese clenched his fists to keep from touching his skin where she had just touched him, but then her small hands caressed the back of his neck and she pressed her forehead to his. "The townhouse. It's missing one thing, you know."

Reese slowly unclenched his fists. He hesitantly touched her waist, his long fingers splaying against her back. "What's that, Joss?"

"A place for a dog to hang out," she drew her head back and looked into his eyes, "for when he and his friend come to visit. They're," she smiled softly, "going to have a lot of things to talk about."

Reese trembled as Joss kissed him.

"And yes, John. My answer is _yes_."


End file.
